


Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

by lookingfortherainbow



Series: Advent Calendar Fics of 2020 [19]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bad Puns, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Dirty Talk, English Teacher Zayn Malik, First Kiss, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Holidays, Humor, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teacher Liam Payne, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/lookingfortherainbow
Summary: They’re acting as if they’re not at a faculty party, where Zayn can look up from where he’s been staring at the flickering candle on his table and see Ms. Phillips, the art teacher, laugh at Mr. Cane’s jokes. Zayn’s pretty sure that Liam’s about to give him an actual, very obscene, very not-appropriate-for-parties handjob, right where any one of their fellow faculty members can see. The only thing that separates them from the sight is the flimsy tablecloth. Zayn’s whole body is shivering at the realization.Happy Holigays, indeed, he thinks, stupidly.*Or, English teacher Zayn is damned to lose his poised reputation at the hands of the fashion-obsessed, ugly-sweater-wearing gym teacher--all in the middle of a party.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Series: Advent Calendar Fics of 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037256
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for humorous/hot semi-public sex!! And puns!  
> Enjoy!

The faculty ugly Christmas sweater party that Zayn’s been dreading going to is finally here. 

He’s an English teacher at one of his city’s private schools, and he loves every moment of it--except for this. It’s not that he doesn’t like his fellow teachers, but they all land a bit on the dull side. While Zayn would love nothing more than to joke around and get a little too tipsy, he doesn’t feel comfortable doing that when everyone is so busy looking prim and proper--even in their stupid sweaters. He supposes it’s the con of working at a private school that his own family wouldn’t have been able to afford sending him to when he, himself, was a teenager.

The country club they’re holding it at is beautifully decorated. Wreaths with fake birds nestling in them hang on the doors, there’s cinnamon-apple candles lit all around, yellow lights line the chimney in the one corner of the large party room, the fire crackles loudly in competition with the din of conversation, and the tables have tall candles with fake snow-dusted flowers nestled around them. It’s beautiful, but Zayn’s itching to go home, even if that means walking all the way across the parking lot in the snow that’s falling fast outside, adding to the thick blanket of it that lay on the ground already. It’s going to be a real pain cleaning off his car later.

He’s nursing a glass of rum and texting Louis, his best friend who’s attending his own office party. At least Louis is suffering, too. He knows that he’ll find a way to liven things up before the night is over, though. Zayn, himself, has never had such luck. 

It’s about thirty minutes into the party--Zayn greeting several of his co-workers and their spouses, exchanging small talk--when things get interesting. 

Liam Payne, by far the fittest gym teacher that their school’s ever had, slumps himself merrily into the chair next to him. He’s observed him in the teacher’s lounge before, but has never exchanged more than a few small words and smiles with him. He knows half the girls in the school think he’s more attractive than any of the boyfriends they’re loosely dating, but Liam, himself, doesn’t seem to know his own power. 

Which becomes even more apparent based on the fact that he’s wearing one of the [punniest sweaters](https://www.etsy.com/listing/754328045/happy-holigays-lgbtq-pride-holidays?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=lgbtq+ugly+sweaters&ref=sr_gallery-1-9&col=1) Zayn has ever seen. The words on it make him choke on his liquor, his nose burning from how he swallowed wrong. 

“Woah, woah, you okay?” Liam asks, patting him on the back. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He’s leaning close to Zayn, brown eyes sincere and concerned. 

“I’m--I’m fine,” Zayn coughs out, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

He releases him immediately because he can feel the bulge of muscle that lies beneath the soft, thick sweater material. 

He absolutely is _not_ blushing like a sex-starved virgin in a strip club. He is all things poised, and he’ll be damned if one gym teacher is going to ruin that reputation for him. Even if said gym teacher _is_ somehow pulling off wearing a sweater that says ‘Happy Holigays’, rainbows and rainbow hearts adorning it--in case people didn’t get the message from the big bold letters, Zayn supposes. 

“That is. . .quite the sweater you got there,” Zayn comments, once he can breathe again. 

Liam looks down at it as if he’s forgotten he’s wearing such an absurd thing, then meets Zayn’s gaze with a smirk. 

“I had to spice things up. Have you _seen_ some of the ugly Christmas sweaters people are wearing to this thing? No taste, whatsoever.”

“And. . .that’s tasteful?”

“More tasteful than your boring knitted, maroon sweater. I mean, c’mon, babe, didn’t you get the memo?” Liam teases, playful grin on his plump lips. He smooths a large hand up Zayn’s arm, fingers rubbing into the material. “Yep. A mix of wool and cotton. Most likely hastily bought off the nearest rack at Marshall’s.”

Zayn scoffs, trying to look more offended than he feels to cover up the fact he’s squirming a bit in his seat at the attention Liam is spoiling him with. “What are you, the fashion police?”

“I could be. Why? Do you like being handcuffed? Because I’d definitely have to arrest you with this poor outfit ensemble.”

Zayn can barely believe his ears. Briefly, he wonders if Liam is drunk, but the man is leaning close enough that Zayn would be able to smell it on his breath. There’s nothing but the scent of peppermint cookies wafting towards him.

“I thought you taught gym, not Home Ec. How come you’re so knowledgeable about _yarn?”_ Zayn asks, completely out of his element. The man is blatantly flirting with him, and Zayn would be lying if he said he was unaffected by the images that pick-up line stirred up in his head. 

Liam laughs, and Zayn’s whole body warms at the sight and sound. “Believe it or not, my interests go beyond basketballs and weight-lifting.”

“Yeah? What are your other interests?”

Liam looks to the ceiling, counting off on his fingers, drawling, “Cooking, singing, drawing,” he pauses, looking Zayn up and down, finishing with, “Attractive English teachers with terrible fashion sense.”

Clenching his jaw and breathing through his nose, Zayn stares at him in arousal. That look in Liam’s eyes is making him sweat. He may have also joined the Liam Payne fanclub along with his female students--not that he’d ever admit that out loud--and the fact that Liam is so openly checking him out is making him feel jittery like a teenager with their first crush.

“You’re--” he has to pause to clear his throat, “You’re saying you think you could dress me better than _I_ can?”

It’s supposed to come out with the dry snark he usually relies on when he’s feeling out of his depth, but his voice is reedy, and it gives him away. 

Moving in closer, Liam slides a warm palm up Zayn’s thigh that’s secured in dark-wash jeans. 

“That is _exactly_ what I’m saying. Though, undressing you would be a lot more fun,” Liam murmurs, voice low. 

Right then and there, as Liam presses a kiss to his neck, Zayn forgets where they actually are. 

“Scoot your chair in,” Liam commands, voice losing some of its playfulness, making Zayn’s spine shiver with the new assertive tone in it. 

Obeying him, Zayn scoots in so his hips are under the hem of the mistle-toe patterned tablecloth. “What are you. . .”

His breath disappears from his lungs when Liam’s palm slides further up, right onto where Zayn is chubbing up. 

They’re acting as if they’re not at a faculty party, where Zayn can look up from where he’s been staring at the flickering candle on his table and see Ms. Phillips, the art teacher, laugh at Mr. Cane’s jokes. Zayn’s pretty sure that Liam’s about to give him an actual, very obscene, very _not-appropriate-for-parties_ handjob, right where any one of their fellow faculty members can see. The only thing that separates them from the sight is the flimsy tablecloth. Zayn’s whole body is shivering at the realization. 

_Happy Holigays, indeed,_ he thinks, stupidly. 

“How long has it been since you last had sex, Zayn?” Liam whispers in his ear, taking Zayn’s lobe into his mouth and nibbling on it.

He gulps, wanting to rut his hips into the soft, teasing pressure of Liam’s hand on his crotch. “Four--four months,” he stutters out. 

_“Jesus,”_ Liam sympathizes. Or maybe he’s moaning at the feeling of Zayn’s dick hot and heavy in his palm, his fingers already having deftly unzipped his fly and pulled him out, as Zayn had answered him. Zayn doesn’t know, doesn’t really care. He just wants him to get on with jerking him off, feeling desperate. “With a body like yours, that’s a fucking crime.”

He rubs a calloused thumb over the wet head, smoothing pre-come down Zayn’s shaft. It would be uncomfortable how Liam is starting up a quick rhythm with no lube, if Zayn didn’t have a thing for pain. Liam’s fingers are the perfect amount of worn and weathered, and Zayn shifts his weight onto his elbows that are resting on the table. It gives him the ability to shove his hips up, even if he huffs for it. 

“You don’t respect your body much, do you? Dressing it in clothes that do nothing to flatter what’s underneath. If you were mine, and trust me, I’ve thought about it, I’d clothe you in such pretty things. I think silk would look amazing on you. . .but what about lace, hm?”

Zayn whimpers both at the thought and the small circle Liam’s fist has made. He’s stopped his movements, kissing behind his ear as he listens to Zayn huff and whimper at the difficulty of fucking into the tight ring he’s made. The table is shaking from his exertion and jerky movements, and the fire in the chimney that’s warming up the room is not helping the fact that sweat is beading at his hairline. 

Zayn’s grateful he settled himself at one of the tables in the corners of the room.

“Do you like that idea, Zayn? You, in my bed, with lace covering this obscene cock?”

Another pitiful noise slips from his bitten lips. With his free hand, Liam turns his head so he’s no longer looking at all the unsuspecting people in the room. Before Zayn can outright moan, Liam’s lips meet his in a claiming kiss, muffling the noise he makes as he comes into Liam’s fist that’s now jerking him off fast and dirty. Zayn’s hand tugs at the ridiculous sweater he’s wearing, fucking his tongue into Liam’s mouth. He feels more than hears the deep chuckle that Liam lets out, as he lets Zayn take from him what he wants. 

It’s uncomfortable when Liam folds his softening cock back into his boxers, zipping up his jeans.

Letting Liam slow their kisses down, Zayn ignores it, though. 

He can’t believe he just let the hot gym teacher give him a quickie in a room full of people. 

“Seriously, Zayn. It should be illegal for one man to steal all the good looks and traits for himself,” Liam murmurs. 

Zayn can hear the teasing smile in his voice as he snuggles into the crook of Liam’s neck, feeling dazed and sleepy after coming. “Yeah? You gonna punish me for it.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

“Well, ‘tis the cuffing season.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Liam laughs, throwing back the remainder of Zayn’s forgotten rum.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who's read the fics, commented, left kudos. Really motivates me more than you know. <3 If you'd like to reblog the little fic post I made for this series, [click here](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/post/636606796721717248/its-december-and-i-wanted-to-do-something)


End file.
